


Reverberations

by zinke



Category: West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three minutes after Ron Butterfield yells ‘Blue’, sending the limousine careening around corners faster than any vehicle it size ought to be moving, the President loses consciousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverberations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fictorium’s ‘Rewriting History’ AU comment ficathon in response to the following prompt: _Bartlet doesn't survive the Rosslyn shooting_.

Three minutes after Ron Butterfield yells ‘Blue’, sending the limousine careening around corners faster than any vehicle it size ought to be moving, the President loses consciousness. Ron keeps talking to him though, in between barking orders to his men. He assures him that Zoey is still behind them, lets him know that they’ve found Sam and CJ and that they are both all right, gives him reassurances he has no place offering.

“Stay with me, Mr. President, we’re almost there.”

“You’re going to be fine sir. Just a few more minutes.”

He keeps saying them to himself long after President Josiah Bartlet, surrounded by a swarm of doctors and machinery, disappears behind George Washington Hospital’s trauma room doors.

*~*~*~*~*~*

John Hoynes is sworn in at 3:47AM.

They stand huddled around a vacant hospital bed with the curtain drawn in an effort to give them some small degree of privacy as Chief Justice Ashland asks John Hoyes to raise his hand.

“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and…”

Her eyes fixed on the discarded SMU women’s basketball jersey at the foot of the bed, CJ listens and tries not to think about all the things they’ll never get to accomplish.

She feels Sam’s hand slip unobtrusively into hers. She squeezes it gratefully and, taking a deep breath, raises her head.

And never looks back.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Bleary-eyed and muzzy from the pain medication, Josh lies in his hospital bed and watches the solemn procession make its way down Pennsylvania Avenue, escorting the President’s casket to the Capitol where it will lie in state for the next few days.

The funeral itself will be private, held in New Hampshire. He will be buried beside his ancestors.

Josh’s doctors refuse to allow him to make the journey.

Donna stays with him, sitting at his bedside and holding his hand as she chatters on about nothing. He listens to her without comment, grateful for the distraction in a way he’s never been before.

When they finally release him from the hospital two weeks later, Donna is still by his side.

She never leaves.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Together, Sam and Toby write the eulogy. When they are finished, Toby hands it to President Hoynes along with his letter of resignation.

As pallbearer, he takes part in the service itself but the remainder of the time he stands apart from the others, content to remain on the fringes as the rest of them exchange hugs and memories of the man they’d respected and loved.

Somewhere between the churchyard and the Bartlet’s farm, Toby’s car disappears from the procession.

It’s almost two years before anyone hears from him again, a brief call to Sam to congratulate him on his victory in California’s 47th.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Leo makes it another five-hundred and forty-six days.

On the morning of number five-hundred and forty seven, he takes his time packing up the last of his personal belongings, kisses Margaret on the cheek and sends her on her way.

He says his goodbyes to the rest of the staff as they trickle out one by one, leaving the West Wing for the last time.

Leo stays long after the offices and hallways have grown silent.

Abbey is the one who eventually finds him, sitting alone in his empty office smelling of scotch, staring helplessly through the open passageway at the sunlit brilliance of the Oval Office.

“I told him we were going to lift whole houses off the ground,” he says, and takes another sip.

She says nothing in response. Instead, she pours herself a drink and sits down beside him. Together they keep vigil until noon, when the bells of the National Cathedral begin to ring.

 

*fin.*


End file.
